


Feral

by aschicca



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, Post 513
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aschicca/pseuds/aschicca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian had a bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever had one of those days when, if someone just tells you "Hi" instead of "Hello", you jump and bite their heads off? I recently had one of those, and a friend suggested I poured my bad mood into a fic. I did.

Hair still wet, Brian put on his black wifebeater. The shower hadn’t helped. Brian’s body was still tense, and he was still feeling very angry. The noise of the door sliding open drove him towards the stairs of his bedroom. Brian observed Justin entering the loft and leaving his _filthy_ sneakers in plain view by the door.

Justin smiled at him. “Hey, Brian,” he greeted, voice cheerful.

Brian stared back.

Unbothered, Justin went in the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice then, after retrieving his sketch pad from the table, he made his way towards the sofa. Brian’s eyes narrowed while he took in the state of Justin’s clothes: his white T-shirt and beige cargo pants were stained with paint – and he was sitting on Brian’s sofa. His _white_ sofa.

Obliviously adding insult to injury, Justin placed his glass of juice on Brian’s _fucking expensive_ coffee table leaving a mark. Brian’s hands closed in fists by their own volition, and he stalked down the stairs and towards Justin.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Brian asked, voice low and menacing.

Justin looked at him, titling his head, and shrugged. He _shrugged_.

“Get your filthy ass off my sofa.”

“What crawled up _your_ ass tonight, Brian?”

Brian glared down at Justin before grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up and off the sofa. Justin yanked his arm off Brian’s grip, and returned the glare. They stood facing each other for a moment before Justin spoke again. “Okay. Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.

“You!” Brian shouted, “That’s what’s wrong!”

“Me? What the hell do you mean _I’m_ what’s wrong?”

“I’m talking about you cluttering up the place the minute you pass the door! I’m talking about you not even bothering to change out of those disgusting clothes before sitting on _my_ perfectly clean sofa!” Between breaths, Brian spat out venomously, “I’m talking about your rudeness!”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Justin yelled back. “ _Rude_? I did the exact same things I do almost every night, Brian! I came home, had something to drink, and sat on _our_ sofa to sketch for a while before showering. Where did all this bullshit about rudeness come from?”

Brian shot daggers at Justin. “Maybe I’ve just had enough! Have you ever thought about that? Maybe I’m tired of putting up with _your_ bullshit!”

“It’s really not a fucking problem, Brian!” Justin yelled, just as loud as Brian had. “I’ll be more than happy to go out so you won’t have to put up with me anymore, tonight.”

Justin had taken only a few steps toward the door when Brian grabbed him by the arm again, and spun him around. “Oh, you’re _more than happy_ to leave, then, aren’t you? So, what? Do you have some other fiddler waiting for you with open arms?” Brian shouted directly in Justin’s face. “Or is it a piano player this time? Do you kneel between his legs, sucking his cock, while he plays his masterpiece for you?”

“I can’t believe you said that!” Justin screamed, angrily. “Really, Brian? That was _years_ ago! What the fuck?!”

Brian’s mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace, and he released Justin’s arm. “Go then,” he said, lowering his voice for the first time. “Get the fuck out.”

“Oh, no,” Justin said, “I’m not going anywhere, now! Not until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you tonight! And don’t give me shit about it being my fault!”

Brian turned his back on Justin, refusing to reply, and stalked towards the liquor cart. He poured himself a shot of JB, downed it in one go, then slammed the glass back down. After refilling his drink, Brian was about to pick it up again but Justin was quicker.

“Give. It. Back.”

“The fuck I will. You’re not going to drink this discussion away, Brian! You started it, now we’re going to finish it!”

“It’s already finished. It’s over. It’s done.”

Justin shook his head. “And what? Am I supposed to run away crying now? Hole myself up in my studio or at Daphne’s mourning over you and the end of a _oh-so-perfect_ relationship?” Justin said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Sorry to disappoint, Brian, but it doesn’t work that way anymore. I’m not seventeen, and you’ve fallen from the pedestal I’d put you on a long time ago.” Throwing an angry look at Brian, Justin drank down the shot of beam he’d stolen earlier, then dumped the glass back on the cart.

Nostrils flaring, Brian took the glass and threw it across the room.

“That’s very mature, Brian,” Justin said. “Are you going to stomp your foot and whine now, too?”

“Fuck you,” Brian whispered then continued, raising his voice, “Leave me the fuck alone!”

Justin simply stood there, looked straight into Brian’s stormy eyes, and said, “No.”

Brian’s expression darkened even more. He muttered, “As you fucking wish. I just hope you’re ready for it,” then pinned Justin to the wall, invading his mouth with a punishing tongue. Justin’s arms circled Brian’s waist, and he gave as good as he got. Teeth clashing, mouths devouring, they shared a kiss that made up in passion what it lacked in finesse.

Brian’s body crushed Justin’s until they both had troubles breathing, but Brian had no intention of releasing him and ending their kiss. Brian’s hands busied themselves in undoing Justin’s pants and yanking them down, so that soon Justin could feel a rush of cold air on his cock and ass.

In a flash, Brian knelt down and took Justin’s cock in his mouth. He sucked him forcefully making Justin cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The blowjob went on for a few minutes and, just when Justin was about to come, Brian stopped and turned him around. Justin gasped when saliva-slicked fingers prodded at his hole, but Brian waited for him to relax before pushing them in. Justin opened his legs as far as they would go since he still had his pants and underwear around his ankles, and moaned for the hard rhythm of Brian’s fingers inside him.

“Brian,” Justin breathed as Brian’s fingers touched his prostate. “Please…”

Pulling out his fingers, Brian enjoyed Justin’s sigh. He didn’t leave him waiting for long. Soon Brian’s cock slided, slowly, inside Justin. Brian only stopped when his chest was flush against Justin’s back, and his cock was tucked in his ass to the hilt.

“Please,” Justin said again.

“Are you sure?” Brian breathed in his ear.

“Yes.”

“Brace yourself, then,” Brian said again, and then pulled almost out before slamming his cock back in. He kept that same punishing rhythm for long minutes, his hand coming around to fist Justin’s cock roughly, until they both came screaming.

Breathing harshly, the two of them collapsed to the floor and just lay there.

“I had a bad day,” Brian said, quietly, after a while.

“Really? I hadn’t realized,” came Justin’s amused reply, that turned into a laugh at Brian’s “Little shit.”

Brian sighed, visibly relaxing maybe for the first time that day.

“Ethan?” Justin asked, amused. “Seriously, Brian?”

A deep blush colored Brian’s cheeks, and he muttered a, “Shut the fuck up, you twat,” before burrowing his face in Justin’s neck.

Justin grinned.


End file.
